


01. Bat

by strangeera



Series: Blew It [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, High School, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeera/pseuds/strangeera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drugs, the internet, first kisses and the graveyard. unrequited love?? sterek high school au. vignette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	01. Bat

In the dark in my bedroom and I have him pressed down against my bed now, eyes basically black and bottomless beneath me, open mouthed and writhing. Infinite pleasure, please. I’m endlessly pushing my rock solid dick against the constraints of my boxers, against his, oozing pre come soaking my underwear, ceaselessly spurring me onward, into him. On repeat inside my head: this is happening, and he whispers my name like it’s the dirtiest fucking thing ever, totally shameful and disgusting (?) but I’m so horny I don’t care and I find myself wondering what would happen if I held my breath so long I passed out, always trying to preserve the moment, and the sounds, oh god, the sounds dripping from his open mouth unravel me completely; penetrate me to the very middle, all the way, burrowing inside like a carnal parasite, deep and fast, thrashing inside my veins, racing towards my dick, tearing me apart.

 

He’s still wearing the Thrasher t-shirt. I’m shirtless and wet, and my nipples are so fucking hard they actually hurt against the fabric and the cold uncomfortable damp of my wet boxers jitters like a nail bomb against my hot dick. “Derek,” he says, on the verge, both, but I’ve gone too far, away from keyboardweweqfmnmfdmvnbdfr.

 

Endless pushing, nothing but the bed beneath us and the wet boxer shorts and friction and him, writhing and mouthing against my bare neck, glowing in the dark, and my dick, my fucking dick, man.

 

But that didn’t happen.

 

Stiles is sitting on my bed, licking the paper of a joint, (I’d said: “you can’t smoke that in here, dude,” and he’d said, “lighten up, homo,”) and saying: “whatever, man. College is for suckers,” and then, pressing the joint together with those stupid (touch me, fuck) hands, “your mom seems cool. Do you have an iPad?”

 

Stiles mom is dead. Cancer, he told me later, “whatever,” and I didn’t say anything else, and I remember my first day of school, and Brad C telling me nonchalantly that Stiles’ mom killed herself, (“went totally nutso, trust me,”) or something, pills maybe, I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention, but I very clearly remember the part Brad said Stiles, thirteen years old and “a total little shit, you don’t even know,” putting some guy in the hospital for talking shit about his dead mom. I only remember that because I remember being bizarrely turned on by this weird information, and I felt my dick twitch in my cargo pants and the first time I saw Stiles he was wearing black denim cut offs with navy low Converse sneakers, swinging a baseball bat aimlessly in the corridor, and he looked over at me and kind of smiled at me, and I popped a boner and I don’t know, basically I stopped breathing and my arms felt too far away.


End file.
